SLAYERS, VAMPIRES, AND GENETICALLY EMPOWERED OH MY
by KiaraAlexisKlay
Summary: A cup of slayerage mixed with a little mystery, add a twist of Dark Angel X5 and let's see where this goes!
1. Chapter 1

Summary/Working Title: Slayers, Vampires, and the Genetically Empowered, _Oh my!_

Author: Kiara Alexis Klay

Rating: PG-13 for now. Might be more Mature for certain themes later.

Disclaimer: Don't own Buffy, the Scoobies, or other characters. Dark Angel and crew belong to Fox and Cameron and Eglee.

A/n: This is purely entertainment. And good, old-fashioned fun and muse. Blame it on my alter ego, a little stuffed red dragon that stays on top an unused computer monitor and has remained nameless so far. I need a name for my alter ego, and he's male to my female btw.

Pairings: TBA. Not certain if I want to pair anyone up yet.

Timeline – DA time (2016 since Buff's sixteen) but sort of Season Two-ish for Buffyverse. No really weird stuff like Angelus, Willow's girlfriends, or stuff like that. Get it, got it? Good. Just A Warning: Heavily AU so approx time and dates will be skewed. Just fair warning.

* * *

**SLAYERS, VAMPIRES, AND GENETICALLY EMPOWERED _OH MY!_**

"Buffy Anne Summers! Get your bottle blonde butt over here, now!"

The said mentioned blond from a bottle arched a slightly darker colored brow in the direction of the person who dared launch such a double pronged attack in broad daylight, and publicly no less. Short, petite, usually perky but not today, with a no-nonsense, take charge aura that made one forget her lack of inches, she altered the direction of her walk to obey the thrice named summons.

_The power of three._

"Yes, Alexander Lavelle Harris?" she replied evenly, the very quiet and calm in her voice a warning in itself, as was her well-placed barb.

Harris winced at the mention of his not-so-well-liked middle name, knowing he had deserved it, but plunging on anyway in typical zany Harris-ness.

"Hi! Good morning to you on this bright, sunny, and typically cloudless Southern Californian school weekday," the dark brunette male greeted her with the usual adoring expression directed her way, and more than cheerful cheeriness.

Buffy didn't know how he could be so cheerful, sarcastic, and enjoyable before ten o'clock and four cups of coffee, but invariably, Alexander-call-me-Xander Harris managed it each and every day. That kind of optimistic willpower was beyond her level of comprehension right now, but being near the affable male had lifted her spirits up somewhat.

"Hey," she acknowledged giving him a nod, matching her pace to his unconsciously as they headed toward the sandy colored stone steps that led toward the mouth of their school.

Xander had known the petite blond long enough to know the trouble that his full name-calling would cause. It was a tactic he freely admitted was pathetic and obvious, and pathetically obvious he was willing to endure whatever her wrath meted out for even that negative attention from her.

So knowing he was in very serious danger and risk of being hit, pummeled, or basically beaten within every inch of his tall, six foot frame, he shot her his most charming smile and assumed an inoffensive posture, hoping against hope he radiated the harmless-please-don't-hit-me vibe. He even tried his very own Xander-patent-pending version of puppy dog eyes for good measure.

"Oh, Xander," the slender red-head who had been attached to his side gave a shake of her head and sighed while rolling her eyes heavenward. "You are so going to die."

This earned her a throaty chuckle from the object of Xander's desires and a twitch of the lips that curved the upper part of her mouth into a small, wryly amused smirk.

"Thanks for your vote of confidence, Willow. If this is how you uplift your best friend I'd hate to see you put down your worst enemy. They would gasp in horror, die from the verbal assaultage upon their sensitive souls, wither from the onslaught."

Xander could be melodramatic, but at least he'd gotten Buffy to smile a bit, even if it was at his own expense as per usual.

"That wasn't nice, Xander," Buffy chided him softly, still keeping her voice carefully controlled.

That was the first hint the other two had that everything wasn't sunny in Sunnydale for the resident Slayer. The amusement had fled her as soon as it had come, and the headache and basic feeling of rottenness and not feeling good returned in full measure, and her sensitized senses were heading toward overload, every sound a wooden stake through her skull, every scent a vicious scheme to release the remnants of food from her stomach, every patch of sunlight a dastardly weapon assaulting her poor, aching eyes.

"You okay, Buffy? You're like, really pale, almost vampirey pale, but not too vampirey, since you're not a vampire, and vampires can't walk about in sunlight, or get a tan, like the one you started, but now can't tell because you're pale," Willow babbled, in her concern for her friend rambling on even though the subject of vampires and any likeness Buffy had to them not a good thing.

"Yeah, you okay, Buffster," Xander interjected, as concerned for Willow's health and continued existence, as well as for Buffy and her unusual mood.

Buffy cast an unamused look in Willow's direction, but the girl's luminous brownish-green almost hazel eyes peered intently at her, her concern very obvious and Buffy found she couldn't stay irritated at her for the vampire reference. Both of them being worried about her, like her mom Joyce this morning, touched her, and she gave a wan smile as they came to their lockers.

"I'm fine," she replied, feeling like a wrung out rag someone used, discarded, and stomped on. She exchanged her backpack for a couple texts, folders, and notebooks.

"Just tired."

"Wow, you look it. With those dark circles under your eyes, and hey, you're not wearing any make-up! I've _never_ seen you without make-up!"

Willow Rosenberg's surprise at this revelation –Buffy never went anywhere un-make upped – was enough to chase away the frozen deer caught in the headlights reaction that was just seconds following. She mentally chastised herself for speaking before she thought, a habit that occurred often and at the most inopportune moments, and which caused her to unintentionally turn away others.

"Willow!" Xander gave her a disbelieving look, casting a fearful look over at the other female to see how she'd take it.

Buffy did indeed look tired now that he was really looking at her, but fortunately for Willow, the tiredness in her eyes was replaced a fragment of the Slayer's usual glib humor.

"It's okay, Will. Thanks for agreeing. C'mon, we have to get to class."

She shut the locker with a _bang!_ proceeding down the hall at a slightly faster clip than normal. Xander and Willow exchanged startled glances; Willow's leaning more toward sheepish and guilty, while Xander's was worried. The two quickly followed after their friend.

* * *

_For those of you who wanted more, here it is! I also did the courtesy of cutting it up into nice little chapters just for and edited/reposted some things._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Disclaimer: Don't own either Buffy or Dark Angel characters.

* * *

Buffy Summers wasn't lying when she'd told Xander and Willow that she was tired. Nor was it untrue what Willow had said about make-up. But after the night she'd had, sticking on globs of powder and liquid foundation to camouflage the evidence of her weariness was just too much effort.

_Camouflage,_ Buffy's lips twisted in a half-sneer of distaste with the images that came to mind and were attached to that word.

Last night's patrol was fun-filled with vampire appointments, the bloodsucking _suckers_ were out in an unusual show of force, and by sunrise she'd almost staked fifteen vamps. _Almost staked_ were the key words; the fifteenth vamp she'd sort of accidentally on purpose managed to set on fire. She had to say one thing, once a vampire was lit, they turned back to dust almost as soon as the fire touched undead skin.

But vampire steak and barbecue wasn't all that happened, all of which contributed to this downright peachy mood.

Buffy sat in one of her classes, listening with half an ear as the teacher prattled on about some important literary figure or some sort, while the larger portion kept coming back to the nightmare from last night.

The nightmare started out like many of those she received every time she killed vampires or other preternatural heebie jeebies.

* * *

_She was in the cemetery –big shocker there- which one wasn't important. Cemetery, night, unnatural stillness, a petite blond high school age girl- all a bad recipe waiting to be served. _

_Suddenly a gang of vampires jumped her unaware. That, for one, was a major clue that something wasn't right. She would never be unaware of her surroundings, or the distinctive tingle of Slayer-sense that told her specifically vampires were around and how many, or the unique scent they gave off._

_She fought against this nest in the cemetery, slamming into gravestones, tripping over graves, leaping over those stupid iron picket fences that people seem to think need to belong in a graveyard. Eventually, after a brutal fight –it was an entire nest against one Slayer after all- she succeeded in staking the last of the Undead. _

_Exhausted, seriously drained, she fell to her knees beside one of the lucky gravestones to escape the brawl unscathed, leaning against it for support. The action stirred the misty fog that seemed to have developed sometime within those last few moments._

_Not really curious, her gaze was drawn downward of it's own accord, fog swirling and allowing Buffy a glimpse of what had been etched into the stone, surprised and more than a little disconcerted that no words were written._

_No words._

_Only a barcode._

* * *

This was the first time in over six years that she'd had that particular nightmare, the first since becoming a Slayer a little over a year ago that it was incorporated with a Slayer dream, made all the more frightening and disturbing by the fact that these nightmare had a basis in reality. A reality Buffy wanted very much to forget ever existed. But what had woken her from the nightmare scared her just as much.

She'd awoke, covered in sweat, and body shaking. Not just I've-been-awakened-by-my-worst-nightmare-type shaking, but a harsh, jerking that took her by surprise. She'd never been one of those who had had the bad shakes; she could control hers to an extent, and she hadn't experienced anything but the occasional twitch every now and then. This was the full blown dealio that had filled her and her siblings with dread, the prelude to one of them being taken away and never to return.

The remaining few hours before she had to 'wake up' for school was spent in her bathroom, grateful in a new way that she had her own bathroom, as the shakes that had so scared her as a child came to hit her full force, spasming and arching her body with ruthless efficiency. The bottle of all-important Tryptophan stood like a silent, grim spectator, some of its contents strewn about the countertop, a few dotting the floor beside where her head lay quivering, praying to the Blue Lady or whatever deity that this would pass soon.

By the time Joyce Summers had arisen to start the coffee and her day, Buffy had managed to get herself reasonably under control, getting dressed, feeling like an old crone as she shook slightly and ached all over while pulling on whatever clothes were handy. She didn't waste time with make-up, just splashed water on her face, pinched her cheeks, and hoped her mother wouldn't ask too many questions. Let her think it was just a restless night, run a brush through her hair, clean her teeth after a pseudo-breakfast of a large glass of milk and a slice of toast her stomach protested against, and hit the road for school.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Buffy snapped out of her reverie just in time to hear about tomorrow's surprise quiz, held back a groan as the bell rung and seemed to have a louder, more annoying echo in her head, signaling the end of class.

Sending a glare at the offending PA system that should have melted it, wishing that she had Superman's laser vision for just that moment, she didn't wait around, just grabbed her books and other paraphernalia, leaving as quickly as she could.

The dream and the after effects of the bout with seizures had left her dazed and disgruntled, in no mood for inane chatter of any kind. She only wanted to crawl someplace high, dark, and curl up until the wrongness in her disappeared.

_Yeah, right, fat chance of _that_ ever happening. I'm _the Slayer_, she who must face the great, Big Bad alone, stop the scourge of evil, blah blah woof woof. _

Truth was, it worried her what the resurgence of these two incidents forebode. Not anything good, that was a definite, set in stone, mammoth Easter Island tropical freaky kind of certainty. Separately, they were bad enough; both occurring was too much a coincidence. Since becoming the Slayer she now knew better than to discredit dreams of any kind.

Even before becoming the Chosen One, She Who Will Slay Until She Dies…_Again_, she knew that dreams were important.

_'A dream is the way of subconsciously notifying you of important data your conscious mind did not immediately pick up and inform you of at the time of observation.'_

The familiar phrase, spoken in that oh-so-familiar cool, unruffled, and unemotional tone, was enough to send cold chills of unease down Buffy's spine. She shoved that and similarly related and unpleasant reminders of her past deep in the recesses of her mind, where she hoped they would stay.

"Buffy, wait! Buff!"

Mind finally registering her friends' cries, she slowed down and let a panting and worried looking pair catch up to her quick strides.

"Gee, Buffy, where's the fire? There must be something real important to talk to Giles about, you left so fast."

Xander was so rarely really irritated at her that Buffy blinked, staring up at him in puzzlement, finally turning her attention and awareness on her surroundings. The trio was standing in the doorway of the Sunnydale High Library, domain of Rupert Giles, aka Buffy's 'Watcher', who was supposed to be preparing her for all the things that go bump in the night with evil global and apocalyptic plans, most involving the utter mass extinction of the human race.

Buffy had no clue this was where she headed, but it was so natural, when having a problem of such proportions to talk to Giles. He could usually pull an answer out of one of his musty books after careful research of course, or have Willow pull some cybernetic mojo and all that would have to be done was some serious butt-kicking on her part and Xander providing snacks and comic relief, then they could go on to the next problem arising.

"Uh, yeah. Something important," she agreed lamely, taking timid steps into Gile's domain, her loyal twosome following behind like good sidekicks.

"Of apocalypse proportions?" Willow asked, a mix of excitement and automatic worry warring for dominance.

_Only for me,_ Buffy snorted inwardly, but what she said aloud was, "I was being sarcastic, Will."

"Oh."

Buffy hated seeing Willow's excitement and self esteem deflate so quickly after an innocuous remark because of something she had said. It made her feel even more rotten than before.

"It's all right, Will. I'm not really…all the way here. I have a headache, and I didn't mean to sound like I was being mean or anything."

Willow seemed to brighten up again, and her smile could have charged a thousand cities it was so bright. Like a kid who's mommy spanked her, and then gave her a hug. Buffy's heart ached that Willow needed to feel such reassurance in order to feel good about herself.

In the short time that Buffy had known them both, she'd really seen an improvement in the lives of Willow and Xander. Willow perhaps, was the one who was most notably changed. The Willow of old would never have gotten believed in apocalypses or vampires or heebie jeebies, who was painfully shy, much less get excitedly worried about having to face one again. While still shy, she had definitely started to come into her own, and was even now learning how to stand up on her own two feet and get out of Buffy and Xander's shadows, becoming confident in her self and abilities.

"So, let's see Giles about the great Buffalypse!"

"Xander!" both females admonished.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Disclaimer: Nothing, I own nothing! nada, zilch, zero, nein (or is it nien?), finito.

* * *

"Buffy! Xander, Willow. What a surprise, I didn't expect you for until next period. Is everything okay?"

As usual, Giles was cleaning his spectacles, his semi-receding hair slightly ruffled looking, his tweed pants and elbow-patched blazer with brown Oxford loafers completed the whole studious professor image, what Buffy had come to secretly call 'clueless, stuffy, British male spinster' look.

And coming in right behind their beloved musty librarian Watcher was a not so stuffy looking but equally disheveled Ms. Jennifer 'Jenny'Calendar, Giles' uh, lady friend and fellow teacher. If the slight flush on both their faces was an indication, and Buff could see the slight swelling on Ms. Calendar's lips, Buffy was willing to bet Mr. Rupert Giles and Ms. Jennifer Calendar were having a little heated moment of their own. That and an increase in Giles' nervousness and stuttering speech.

If she hadn't felt like crap already seeing a blatant reminder of a love that she could never experience or hope she could would have. As it was, it was icing on the cake of an already bad day and Buffy just sighed.

"I think I'm going to ignore the fact that my Watcher and his girlfriend actually know about sex, making out, and the smoochies, and just get back to my own skewed up world," Buffy moaned.

"We have a Buffalypse," Xander announced, drawing himself up in mock pride, chest puffed out.

"A what?" Giles blinked as he reset his glasses and adjusted his clothing, more flustered than ever thanks to Buffy's smart ass remark. Buffy idly noted that he messed with his clothes or glasses when he was nervous or wound up.

"Xander speak for him not knowing what's going on with me," she explained, shrugging, and immediately wishing that she hadn't. The night's exertions coupled with the nightmare and the severe seizures had bruised her quite a bit.

Her wince didn't go unnoticed and Giles immediately set into Watcher mode, replacing his earlier kid-caught-kissing nervousness with an efficiency that Buffy found herself pleased with for some reason.

"What happened? How late did you stay out and how many did you take down?" Giles sounded at once curious and disapproving.

"Fourteen staked, one burned, almost sunrise, and I'm just a little bruised," Buffy admitted, but held back a little.

Blue Lady, she felt so tired.

"Fourteen staked and one burned?" Giles repeated, stunned. Even that was quite a bit for his Slayer, _any_ Slayer for that matter, and from the looks on the others' faces, they knew it too.

"Fifteen in one night! You must have been busy, no wonder you look so tired, even for you!" Willow burst out.

"I would have been fine if that was all that happened." _Did Jack and Max ever feel this tired after their seizures?_

"What?"

Buffy blinked, and that's when she realized that she had spoken that last out loud. Caught, she tried to think of something to say to divert them, but her headache returned in full force and she was in too much pain to think of something appropriate.

"Ugh," was all she could say, hand going to her head even as she swayed and pitched forward.


	5. Chapter 5

Slayers, Vampires, and Genetically Engineered Oh My!

Disclaimer: Joss Wheadon owns Buffy; Cameron, Eglee, and the Fox guys Dark Angel

**Chapter 5**

* * *

_Previously:_

_Buffy blinked, and that's when she realized that she had spoken that last out loud. Caught, she tried to think of something to say to divert them, but her headache returned in full force and she was in too much pain to think of something appropriate._

_"Ugh," was all she could say, hand going to her head even as she swayed and pitched forward.

* * *

_

"Hey!" "Buffy!" "Whoa!"

Four pairs of startled hands reached out to steady the unsteady Slayer as she toppled over. Willow had been closest and had understood somewhat of what was about to happen; having already begun reaching forward the moment Buffy's hand had risen to her head.

She caught the full force of the Slayer's weight, which was considerable, for such a little thing that she was. Willow grunted as she and Buffy went down under the combined weight, taking the brunt of the impact.

Helping hands reached in a few moments later, taking the semi-conscious blond off of the wheezing redhead, and a familiar pair helped her up.

"Thanks, Ms. Calendar," Willow spoke gratefully to the one who made sure she was okay.

It shouldn't have hurt so bad that Xander and Giles were more concerned over Buffy than they were she. But that was okay; Buffy was the one who passed out.

"Is she okay?"

That seemed to be the question on everybody's lips. Giles and Xander helped Buffy to a nearby chair; Giles forcefully nudging Xander back so Buffy had room to breathe.

"Buffy. Buffy, are you all right?" Giles asked again, concern creasing his face, an almost paternal expression. She was _his_ Slayer after all, the best in his private opinion that he'd never admit aloud, she rarely if ever was sick, and this worried him.

"No," she all but whispered, wincing as the light hit her eyes and she shut them tight, resting her forehead on the cool tabletop.

She didn't want to be here. But here was better than the alternative that just wanted to suck her down.

He was shaking, and he wouldn't stop. She could hear him, hear as his body was wracked with intense shakes that shook him so hard bones creaked and his breathing became labored.

* * *

"_Jack! Jack, please stop! They'll take you away if you won't!" _

_The little girl who would become Buffy later on begged her older 'sibling' in desperation. _

_Hadn't they already lost Kane and Marko when they had the shakes like this? Didn't they ever come back, and nobody had known where they went, until Maxie found their barcodes on the plaques of the newest graves in the Bad Place?_

"_T-try-trying t-t-to s-stop-op," he wheezed out, eyes wide and he winced at the little bit of spotlight coming through the window._

"_H-h-hurts. Light…hurts. H-h-head a-ach-aching."_

_Tears of agony rolled down his boyish face, and he never cried out, only gasped for breath._

"_Please, Jack! They're coming, we have to get in line!"

* * *

_

"No…please, no!" Buffy begged, tears streaming down her own face, unaware she was crying.

"Buff…Buffy!"

Blinking and squinting up as she tried to pull herself together, Buffy looked into the faces of those surrounding her. Willow look frightened, Xander worried, Giles and Jenny –Ms. Calendar- appeared alarmed. And she was too muddled to do anything.

"What's wrong?" Willow sounded as frightened as she looked.

"S-seizures," Buffy admitted.

"Seizures?" Giles gaped, looking at her as if seeing her for the very first time.

_Wonder what he'll say when he finds out I'm not a hundred percent human,_ Buffy wondered wearily, then snapped back on track.

"Need to take medicine," she slurred out, reaching for her bag, fumbled trying to open it, gave up and directed Jenny as she moved into help.

"What do you need?" the brunette computer teacher asked, her very voice and manner soothing and going a long way to helping calm Buffy down.

"Tryptophan. Big bottle. Water, or milk, if there's any."

Jenny reached inside the bag, rummaging around quickly until she found the bottle of medicine, and another bottle filled with water.

"How many?" she ordered, and spilled several into her hand, not waiting for an answer.

"That should do it," Buffy reached for them, ignoring the raised brows surprise on Jenny's face, but the techno teacher just let her have them and the water.

"Can she take those without getting into trouble for not having it registered the medication with the office?" Willow asked and was shushed.

"Willow!" Xander hissed.

They all watched anxiously as Buffy downed the pills and about a quarter of the water in one sitting. She was pale, even paler than she had been this morning, so that Willow's remark about being vampire pale was true.

"I think I need to lie down," she fairly whimpered, and was led to Giles' office where he swept some books off a cot in one corner and Buffy gratefully sank onto it.

"Shoulda known better," she murmured.

"Known what better?" Giles questioned, crouching near his Slayer.

"Should have known they'd come back. Was lucky too long, too often. Had to have happened," she muttered drowsily, eyes fluttering as sleep overtook her other needs.

"What? The seizures?"

Whatever Buffy said next was lost to gibberish, her words too soft and too slurred together to be understood. Then she was silent except for the rise and fall of her breathing, but it was an uneasy slumber they could tell.

And then the shaking started again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Slayers, Vampires, and Genetically Engineered _Oh My!_**

**Disclaimer**: Joss Wheadon owns Buffy; Cameron, Eglee, and the Fox guys Dark Angel

* * *

**Chapter 6

* * *

**

Giles looked down at the steady rise and fall of his Slayer's chest, absently cataloguing the unnatural rhythm, wondering what in the world he was going to do. She was speaking gibberish now, and even what she had told them earlier when she was coherent enough didn't make sense.

Now, everyone was looking to him, the Watcher, for answers and in this instance he didn't have any.

Jenny was the first to crouch down beside him, seeming to know instinctively that he needed her presence, her scent nearby. Waiting. Waiting for him to give them some cue or sign or…or something. Until then she'd just be here for him, for Buffy.

Xander and Willow huddled together close, but not too close, not wanting to anger Giles or get in Buffy's airspace, mindful of the Watcher's occasional bouts into what they termed 'Ripper-time'. Giles was looking very grim and Ripper-y by the moment and they didn't want to be on the receiving end of a Ripper induced anger backlash.

They all just kind of hung around their fallen Slayer, their unofficial leader, worried at this sudden weakness in a girl who didn't seem to have any. She had very nearly collapsed onto the cot Giles kept in his office and then she started to shake.

Huge, body bowing, spine snapping, teeth gritting spasms tore through her petite frame, and the feeling of helplessness enveloped the concerned spectators. Sounds like soft, pain-filled whimpers came through her throat, and her face was contorted with pain and furrowed in her agony, eyes squeezed shut.

"I thought the medicine was supposed to help her," Xander voiced his concern first, finding his voice, though quivery.

"We can't let Snyder see her like this!" Willow suddenly exclaimed, catching sight of the person who terrorized and demoralized everyone in the school from staff and faculty to students.

Why a man who detested adolescents chose to become a principal where he would come into contact with those he loathed was beyond anyone's comprehension.

Giles and Jenny looked up quickly and Giles was up and on his feet, suddenly gripping the two upright students by their arms and ushering them away and out of his office. Jenny stayed put by some unspoken understanding, which seemed to be an adult only thing, as the two found them in the library proper and facing a dauntingly short Principal Snyder.

Before the diminutive educational facilitator could do more than voice whatever dirge sprung to his mind, Giles cut his and the two adolescents protests off.

"I have told you two time and time again that if you wished for more 'modern' methods of researching for your reports than you should visit Ms. Calendar down the hallway and quit pestering me with all that technological riff-raff. I also warned you about _dawdling_ before class, thank heavens it's only the two of you…ah, Principal Snyder, what an unusual surprise. If you would wait just a moment, I am in the process of encouraging these young reprobates back to class where they belong _for the moment_."

Giles hoped that Buffy's two accomplices would get the hint and leave before they aroused Snyder's already permanent case of suspicion, though from the bewildered and almost hurt looks on their faces they didn't. Oh, well, they'd have to forgive him later.

Willow was right; Snyder couldn't see Buffy like this or there would be some hasty and awkward lying to get out of that mess.

He gave Willow and Xander a not so subtle nudge toward the door, his look a mix of stern admonition and worry. Thankfully, Willow got the hint before Xander, and mumbled some nonsensical excuse, grabbing Xander and making a quick exit as the bell was ringing to announce five minutes before tardiness.

"I'll never understand why you allow yourself such close contact with those cretinous creatures," Snyder commented with a hateful sneer in the direction the two students had exited.

His forehead puckered into a frown as his eyes narrowed in thought. Giles was quick to distract him.

"They have their uses on occasion, just not when they babble on about 'the Net' or the telly," Giles waved a dismissive hand. "Give me my books and texts over those corrupting contraptions any time. Can I do something for you, Principal Snyder?"

"Where was the other one, the troublesome one, _Summers_?" Snyder fairly spat. "She's usually in the thick of things with those two."

"I wouldn't know, she wasn't with them when they came in, and like you said, she's usually right in the thick of things," Giles agreed, inwardly cringing as he knew there was more than one truth to his words.

He only hoped that Snyder would leave soon; having a convulsing student he just said hadn't been in the library yet discovered in his office would be difficult explaining. On some instinct, he knew that it would be very bad for Buffy, who had kept her seizing as a secret for a reason. If Giles was honest with himself, he knew that that girl always had a reason for everything she did, every secret she held. He would not betray her.

"Hmm…" was all the principal spoke, before heading toward the double doors.

"Oh, and Rupert," the short man turned to look at the nervous librarian. "If you see Ms. Summers, tell her I want to see her in my office."

"Of course."

Giles assurance fell on a set of swinging closed doors, so technically, he had never agreed to anything Snyder had said. With that loophole in mind, Giles shot to his office, closing the door behind him.

Jenny looked up at him with absolute worry on her face. One hand was in holding on to part of Buffy's arm. She looked like she was calming down somewhat, her spasms not as deep, nor was she shaking so uncontrollably.

"I wouldn't get so close, Jenny, or hold on. Slayer strength could harm you, you know," he wiped his glasses nervously.

"Of course."

Jenny moved away somewhat reluctantly, staring down at the petite blond, body rocking on the cot.

"My God, Giles, what's wrong with her?"

"I don't know, Jenny, I don't know."

"Is she _whimpering_ and _growling_?" Jenny cocked her head to one side, frowning as she listened, hearing the soft sobbing keens and hissing growls from the teenager.

"I do believe she is," Giles' brows arched in some surprise. "Perhaps she is a having a nightmare. With all that she has to face and has, I wouldn't be surprised if they are not exactly conducive to restful sleep."

Jenny stared at him like he'd pulled a hydra and grown another set of heads.

"What?"

"You are so morbid," Jenny shook her head at her boyfriend, even as she admitted that he was probably right. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what would make the Slayer whimper. Or what would make her _growl_.

* * *

_"Monster!" the man howled, clutching the hand that was now gushing blood like one of those old time horror movies. The sickly fascinating thing about it was that each beat of his heart sent a new spurt shooting straight out._

"_Restrain her! Restrain her!"_

_Men dressed in black fatigues and bristling with weaponry poured in like cockroaches coming out of the woodwork, bringing weapons to bear on the little dervish currently causing such havoc._

'_Buffy' was covered head to toe in the blood of her adversaries, dark eyes flashing fury and her bloodied lips pulling back to bare her teeth in a fierce snarl, her fighting stance wary, ready, and protective. _

_There was a still form, just as small as she, limply laying at her feet, identifiable as an X5 soldier, a male from the looks of it. He was beaten, bruised, and his chest barely rose and fell, body shaking with the effort to breathe. _

_It was obvious that he had fallen afoul of some of the more…exuberant guards, but there was a strict 'don't ask, don't tell' policy in effect, a policy that had saved the guards from the wrath of the Colonel for several years now. _

_However, it looked that their reign of terror had met its match. The guards belatedly realized that the X5's, particularly of Unit 2, were _very_ much more protective of each other than previous series, and they made no bones about it when one of their own was in trouble._

_A sound like a deep, feline growl issued out her mouth, the sound more suited on a full grown lion, tiger, or leopard, not this tiny slip of a thing. She warned the rushing men to stay away from her fallen comrade, crouching down and seeming to not care that she had bit off the tops of two fingers and part of another on the one guard, permanently handicapping the guard if he couldn't get the severed phalanges reattached soon. _

"_Cease and desist!" the TAC commander ordered the little girl, and he tried not to flinch when she turned those feral eyes on him. _

_It was a look he never hoped to see again. There was an untamed wildness there yes, but there was also a cold, clear intelligence peering back at him. An intelligence that said she knew exactly what she did, what she was doing, and she didn't care. His weapon suddenly felt like a ton of lead, and his hands iced over, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. _

_The soldier in him could understand her motives. One of her own was under attack; defend him and the Unit by any means necessary. Never leave a man behind. Never turn your back on a comrade. It was the code that all military men lived, breathed, and ate; it was the code that bound them together and kept them alive just that much longer to see the next mission. _

_The commander was seeing that code defended and uplifted with the utmost devotion and coupled with an animal's passion and defiance to protect the Pack._

"_Cease!" he repeated, bringing his taser up to bear._

_Her gaze never wavered, even as she was being surrounded, but the commander knew she was more aware of them all, their positions, their numbers, and their armament better than they did themselves. She was ready, and she wouldn't move, unless provoked._

_Of course, one of his men was stupid enough to do just that.

* * *

_

_'Buffy' whimpered softly under her breath, even as she knew it was useless and unbecoming of a soldier. Solitary was small, cramped, and very, very dark, completely devoid of all light, sound, or life. Even with being able to see in the dark, she still needed at least some smidgeon of light in order for the night vision to kick in._

_There were only four slits for ventilation, two small, thin openings each on the port and starboard bulwarks. The Box as it came to be known as was a small enclosure eight by eight by eight. Six-inch spikes jutting out from the walls and ceiling took much of that room up, even on the door, forcing the person locked in to stand very still and in the center of the room. _

_Bits of granite, glass, nails, wire, and wood splinters were cemented in the walls and jutting out of the deck, cutting into tender flesh if you leaned or stood wrong. Since you were invariably barefoot when tossed in, your feet were torn to shreds within seconds, and 'Buffy's' 'brother' Ben had nicknamed the corridor leading to Solitary 'the Dark and Bloody Way', an apt description if a little melodramatic. _

'_Buffy' shifted, hissing slightly as a particularly sharp piece of something pierced her foot, and tried her hardest to stand still. She'd been in Solitary confinement for a while now, she didn't know how long. She'd been unconscious when she woke up, the result of having been tasered by over ten pairs of tasers. _

_She'd apparently been hauled straight to Solitary; she could feel the itch of dried blood flaking on her skin, the metallic twang in her mouth, on her tongue, down her throat, its scent nearly as overpowering as its taste. Another indication she'd been there a while was the incessant pressure on her bladder that she needed to relieve herself._

_She couldn't help the groan that came out her throat at the throbbing headache and basic feeling of yuckiness she felt, a set of symptoms she associated with being tasered. It was never a good thing in her short but eventful experience. _

_Against the rising sense of despair and loneliness, 'Buffy' felt a strong, mounting anger develop within, remembering the scene she had come across that had started her being here in the first place. They were good soldiers, they followed orders, executed them with precision and timeliness, even the Colonel said so last week! So why were they beating and whipping on Cypress, X5-222. _

_So what if he was a little more klutzy than the rest of them and fell out of trees? That was no reason for them to do what they did. And Cy just let them, because he was a good soldier, and he was ordered to not fight back, so he didn't._

_'Buffy' hadn't been under any such inhibition and seeing her brother writhe on the floor in agony while the people who supposedly were there to protect and guide them hurt him…well, that had done it. Something snapped within:_

_Pack_

_Brother_

_Unit mate_

_Danger_

_PROTECT!_

_Lash out!_

_ATTACK!_

_Defend_

_On pure instinct she had rushed to Cy's defense just as one of the officers brought the butt of his rifle down on his head. She could hear the snap! and thud as something in him broke and when he fell to the ground, he didn't get up. Such rage filled her and with an inhuman cry of challenge, she struck._

_She made them pay for every bruise, every cut, every injustice paid upon her unconscious brother, not hesitating to snap arms, break legs, throw these adult men into walls, or even bite their fingers off. There had been a primal satisfaction using her teeth to sever the fingers of the man who had delivered the last blow to Cypress, to taste his blood upon her tongue, smell his fear, pain, panic. _

'_Buffy' shifted again, this time not even feeling the pain in her lacerated feet, as she recalled the new word the hated man had screamed at her. _

_Monster._

_Was she a monster? She thought she was a soldier, an X5, transgenic, member of Unit 2, under the command of her Biggest Brother Zack, X5-599._

_What was a monster? Did a monster defend her pack, her fallen brother? Did a monster attack those who attacked the innocent, used whatever tools or body parts available to protect those who could no longer protect themselves?_

_If so…then so be it. She would be a monster, and she would be proud of it._

"_I am a monster," she hissed out in proud defiance, bringing herself to attention, chin raised and shoulders rolled back.

* * *

_

Buffy groaned as she came to, her head splitting. For a moment, she was back at Manticore, stuck in Solitary with a taser induced headache for daring to defend her so called 'brother' Cy from the abuse of the guards, and she had a brief moment of fear and hate.

The musty, papery scent of books invaded her nostrils, along with that of wood varnish, and the familiar, comforting scents that she quickly identified: Giles and Jenny were the most recent, and the fainter but still strong hints of Xander's Old Spice and Willow's lilac perfume.

"Giles?" she rasped, not bothering to hide how shaky she felt, no pun intended.

She could hear a startled exclamation, and then before either of them could speak, her unspoken question was answered as another tremor hit her body, rendering her speechless for the moment. It was the strongest shudder in a while, lingering, as if a last ditch effort just to let her know it was still there.

"Oh," she gasped, opening her eyes suddenly in response, and instantly regretting that decision. Her eyes were still a bit sensitized, and she groaned, raising an unstable hand to weakly shield her eyes.

"There, there, take it easy now Buffy. Everything's going to be…okay."

Buffy couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips at that. She could just imagine the look on her Watcher's face, the nervous little twitter, messing around with his shirt cuffs and glasses. He really was sweet, the nicest man she'd ever met, and that included a whole passel of foster parents and social workers, and a former but now deceased first Watcher.

And the really neat, frightening, and humbling thing was, he actually cared about her, and she found she cared about him too; realizing that his opinion of her and what she did really mattered to her. The thought that he might not understand her, or her reasons why, for keeping this big of a secret from him, about who and what she was…it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"Well, you're smiling, so that's a good thing."

If she could have, Buffy would have laughed at the pure relief in his tone, despite him trying to hide it. He would have succeeded if she hadn't been trained to pick up little things like that.

"Yeah," her voice cracked. She coughed, and shuddered again, but the seizing seemed to be on its last leg and almost finished. For that Buffy was extremely grateful.

"Here, here's some of your water. Can you sit up, do you need me to help?"

Buffy finally opened one eye slightly and peeked up at him, noting that she wasn't as sensitive to light as previously, and opened both eyes further. She nodded, giving her assent for him to help her up.

Despite his nervousness, Giles managed to help Buffy into a sitting position, being careful not to jar her too much, or be too awkward. Her skin was probably sensitive as well, seeing her reaction to the dim lighting of his office and the littlest sounds. She sat up on the cot, leaning against the wall, the occasional shudder rippling through her body like she was shivering from cold.

"Are you cold? Hot?" he couldn't help asking as he passed her bottle containing the remainder of her water.

"Fine," she spoke after taking small, cautious sips. She sounded more like herself, but still a bit faint.

Giles was struck by the amount of weariness in her gaze. It was a look he'd seen in trauma victims and war veterans, former Watchers who had trained, dealt with, and fought by their Slayer's side, seeing all sort of evil. Somehow, he doubted that a mere year and a half of Slayerage would have given her this look so quickly. No, this look had a deeper more well worn feel to it, as if it and Buffy were well acquainted long before she was the Chosen One.

"Is Jenny teaching now?" she asked in a little girl's voice, and it tore Giles' heart to hear his strong, smart aleck Slayer sound so helpless and childlike. Despite her youth, there was nothing childlike about this Chosen One.

"Yes, she had a class to teach. Willow is in it, and Xander is…well, wherever Xander goes at this point in time. So for now it's just you and me," he gave her nervous smile.

"Oh, and by the way. Principal Snyder would like to see you at your earliest convenience."

"Oh, joy," Buffy muttered while nursing her water carefully. "I'd rather face the Nomilies than talk to that arrogant prig," she mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Oh…uh, I said I'd rather face the Master all over than talk to him," she ad-libbed, blushing slightly she'd been so careless, and knowing he wouldn't have understood her even if she repeated it aloud.

"Yes, he does seem to inspire that reaction in people, now doesn't he?"

"That is the understatement of our generation."

She was so tired, she just wanted to curl up, and sleep the day away. She couldn't help the yawn that escaped, or the droop as her head gradually started to lower in time with the arm holding the empty water bottle, sighing.

"So tired," she yawned again, even as she felt Giles' helping hands encouraging her back down to the cot.

"Shh…it's all right Buffy. Get some sleep. I have your back."

_'It's okay, baby sister. We're soldiers, we protect our own. I have your back.'_

With that sweet note, Buffy drifted off into more peaceful dreams.

* * *

_Okay, y'all. Which X5 should Buffy be? Jondy, Vada? Technically, those are the only two (and dark haired) Manticore 'sisters' who aren't Max that we never really knew what happened to or met on Dark Angel. I know in the book Before the Dark by Max Allan Collins that Lydecker had shot Vada three times while attempting to capture her, and I heard rumors about the Eyes Only Dossier that said Jondy was dead (NO! too many good stories involving Jondy for her to be dead!). So which one do you think I should make her? And if you say Max I'll sic my muse on you...he's still an unnamed stuffed red dragon and feeling the lack of love here. So if you have any ideas just add them to your reviews! _

_Reviews mean more muse! More muse means more chapters! Review, review, review!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Slayers, Vampires, and Genetically Engineered _Oh My!_**

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns Buffy and all characters pertaining and created therein; Cameron, Eglee, and the Fox guys Dark Angel and all characters and associations.

* * *

Chapter 7

* * *

Xander didn't waste any time after class, he was already on his way out the door, and down the hall heading toward the library before the bell barely begun to ring. He was very, very worried about Buffy and he wasn't going to let a little thing like mandatory classroom attendance stand in his way of checking in on his ill friend.

Unfortunately, Cordelia Chase was not mandatory class attendance, and she was very much in his way, a fact Xander didn't compute until the inevitable collision occurred.

Cordelia was a beautiful girl in nearly every sense of the word. She had gorgeous mocha colored hair that hung straight and perfect down her back, impeccable tanned skin, and eyes that would give hot chocolate a run for its money. Her slender, tallish figure would and did have boys and grown men of all ages wild.

"Excuse _you_! Look what you did, Harris! You totally and completely ruined a perfectly good pair of Gucci sandals and my _brand new _Charlotte Rouse ensemble!"

She was also an uber mega queen B and not in the good I make honey sense either. The license plate on her flashy, red sports car red Queen C, and indeed Cordelia was the most important thing or person to Cordelia. Such a shame really, she was actually quite smart and personable, if you could get past the spoiled rich girl exterior.

Xander didn't waste time to partake in the usual witty repartee the pair traded, of which Xander was often times the loser, and he didn't spare Cordelia another glance except a vaguely mumbled, "Sorry," and then he was off again.

"Another perfect example of _Homo Sapio Loser_," Cordelia rolled her eyes in exasperation at her Cordeliaettes. The air brained girls nodded solemnly in agreement.

* * *

Willow was out of Ms. Calendar's class and tearing down the hall before she knew it. That in itself was unusual, the usually nerdy red head would take the extra time to make sure her computer was properly shut down, that all her folders and supplies were neat, and spending a few extra minutes talking to Ms. Calendar or the other computer techies.

Willow only hoped she wouldn't run into Principal Snyder. The man was practically uncanny in popping up where you least expected him to, often catching you in the middle of some awkward to explain act or conversation. Would it be too much to ask the Powers that Be to let the man go away and leave them alone?

She made it to the library without any Snyder sightings or mishaps, and for once, Willow was grateful that the walk from the library to Ms. Calendar – Jenny's – room was only a short jog down the hallway, left through another hallway, and straight on, to the left.

"Giles?" she called out anxiously, eyes darting around to take in all the corners of the spaciously curved library.

The door to Giles' office opened and the Watcher stuck his head and partial shoulder out. His eyes flicked to her and behind her as Xander burst through the same double doors Willow had.

"Is…" Xander began, but Giles' upraised hand stalled any further comment, and the two teenagers walked with anxious dread toward Buffy's Watcher.

"Inside," Giles ordered and the two followed, glancing at one another.

* * *

"Buffy?" Willow questioned, peering into the darkened office.

She spotted the petite Slayer curled up in the corner on the cot and she couldn't help but run to the first 'cool' person who had shown a compassion and liking to her.

"Hey, Wills," Buffy smiled, a little bit stronger than she had been. She was still pale, but the rest had done her good, now on her way to recovery.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're okay, you scared me, scared all of us, shaking and passing out on us like that!" Willow chided her friend with all the pent up worry and frustration of the past hour and a half.

"Hey, Buff," Xander spoke up quietly, suddenly afraid to come in. Not afraid of Buffy, per se, more like he was afraid _for_ her.

Seeing her lying there, passing out, body wracked with shaking that he swore would have snapped her spine or neck had left him shaking himself with worry and dread. He stood there in the doorway, shy and uncertain.

Buffy looked up from hugging Willow, not letting on that the hug had hurt, and saw Xander's expression. It broke her heart, that uncertain but extremely loyal look, and for some reason she wanted to cry.

_Has to be a side effect of the seizures,_ she tried to rationalize, even as she smiled at Xander.

"You want a hug, too?" she asked and Xander's usual smile flitted across his face. He could never resist a chance to touch her in some way, and the trio shared a long, satisfying hug.

_Never underestimate the power of a simple touch given in friendship and caring.

* * *

_

"So…Buffy. What happened?"

"So much for tact, Xander," Willow rolled her eyes at her best friend, keeping one arm around Buffy, the blonde girl tucked close and resting her head on Willow's shoulder. Xander was on the other side, the three connected by entwined arms.

"My sentiments exactly, Willow," Giles shot Xander a look, his entire being paternal for his Slayer, warning the other male to back down.

"Is she okay?" Jenny Calendar asked, coming into the office and shutting the door behind her.

"I was just about to debrief them, ma'am," Buffy quipped, still a bit fuzzy around the edges.

Whenever she was tired, her military upbringing automatically surfaced for her to fall back on; usually working it's way into her posture, reactions, and word choice.

"Oh, okay."

Jenny sidled toward Giles, offering her support, and Buffy found herself at the center of attention once more. She cocked her head, considering how much to tell them. It was bad enough they knew she was the Slayer; could she tell them about being a transgenic as well?

Well, how bad could it be? They face the supernatural on a regular basis, things that are unexplainable and sometimes impossible to believe. Science would be nothing to that.

_Right?_

"Today I had seizures," she went for the most basic truth, making eye contact with them all to get her point across.

"We could see that," Xander encouraged, and Buffy smacked him gently.

"They were a mild form of Grand Mal."

"Grand Mall? As in the best shopping ever?" Xander asked again and this time it was Willow who smacked him.

"A Grand Mal, _m-a-l_, seizure is the worst kind of seizure to have. They often result in fatality, if left unchecked and untreated," Giles jumped in, polishing his glasses, the motion jerky and rough with his agitation.

"And Buffy had one?" Xander was incredulous. "Wouldn't her Slayer healing and all protect her?"

"Buffy still present," Buffy raised her hand, giving Xander a weak version of her pointed look. "Yes, I had a mild Grand Mal seizure. I haven't had them since I was a little kid growing up."

"Does it run in the family? Does your mother know?" Jenny fired off the questions.

_Does it run in the family?_ "You could say that."

_Pain, cold, fear, run, run, where are the others? Run!_

"What, that it runs in the family or about your mother knowing?"

"Geeze, Xander!" Willow glared.

"It's okay, I wasn't clear. No, my mom doesn't know, and yes, it does run in my family…sort of."

"Sort of?" Now it was Giles' turn to stare at her. Buffy squirmed.

"Did you know that I'm adopted?" she blurted out, and saw the shocked look on everyone's face. "Yeah, I am. Mom and Da-Hank adopted me when I was little."

"Okay, did anybody else just go into shock mode or is it just me?" Xander pulled away from Buffy and Willow so he could get a better look at Buffy.

"I'm with you, Xander," Willow nodded, but she gave Buffy's shoulder a squeeze.

"We never knew our birth parents, we as in the other kids like me. Some of us would get seizures like this, but I never really had a problem with them. We were brought up in a very…militaristic facility, all duty and discipline and blah blah, and they treated us rotten, so a bunch of us we ran away."

"Mom and Hank found me after I'd made my way to L.A., then the Pulse hit, and it was easy to just attach myself to them, to become Buffy Summers. Things were rough, but we were a family, and we made it through the nasty. I'd get the occasional shake, but they had stopped around the time I became the Slayer, so today was the first time in a long time that I had these, and I've never had them so violent before. It's a good thing I had some Tryptophan left over, otherwise."

Buffy shrugged again. What else could she say?

Okay, so she didn't come out and tell them, hey, I'm a genetically engineered super soldier taught to and have killed since I was a baby, I'm not even a hundred percent human and probably became a Slayer by fluke, who knows _what_ else is thrown in my messed up genetic cocktail. That would come later. Right now, they all seemed to be having enough trouble with the idea she was adopted. It was only merciful she didn't unload it all on them at once.

Really.

* * *

_A/n: Yes, I'm back! And I have good news, aside from the obvious I'm back and posting another chapter. My muse has been named! His name is… Drum-roll-Jareth! Named after that tricky and clever and musically talented Goblin King of Jim Henson's Labyrinth proportions!_

_A/n 2: Thanks for all who reviewed and who sent in their suggestions as to which X5 our Buffy should be. :)_


	8. Chapter 8

**Slayers, Vampires, and Genetically Engineered _Oh My!_**

* * *

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns Buffy and all characters pertaining and created therein; Cameron, Eglee, and the Fox guys Dark Angel and all characters and associations.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

* * *

_Previously_:

_"Mom and Hank found me after I'd made my way to San Francisco, then the Pulse hit, and it was easy to just attach myself to them, to become Buffy Summers. They took me back to their home in Los Angeles, and things were rough, but we were a family, and we made it through the nasty. I'd get the occasional shake, but they had stopped around the time I became the Slayer, so today was the first time in a long time that I had these, and I've never had them so violent before. It's a good thing I had some Tryptophan left over, otherwise."_

_Buffy shrugged again. What else could she say?_

_Okay, so she didn't come out and tell them, hey, I'm a genetically engineered super soldier taught to and have killed since I was a baby, I'm not even a hundred percent human and probably became a Slayer by fluke, who knows what else is thrown in my messed up genetic cocktail. That would come later. Right now, they all seemed to be having enough trouble with the idea she was adopted. It was only merciful she didn't unload it all on them at once._

_Really_.

* * *

Giles called Joyce Summers despite Buffy's protests she was recovering, but the Watcher was firm and had his way this time. He had also insisted on patrolling for her that night, and truth be told, Buffy was relieved, for she still felt like crap and she wanted to avoid answering any more personal questions. Willow and Xander couldn't get over the shock that Buffy was adopted.

"But you look so much alike," Xander had protested with a vigorously nodding Willow at his side.

"Isn't hair coloring technology so wonderful?" was Buffy's sarcastic rejoinder, one eyebrow quirked upwards in time with her lips. But she was actually serious.

The trio was sitting on Giles' cot as they waited for Joyce to come pick her up. The school nurse had already been called in, declared Buffy unfit for school after dubiously eyeing her as she made up some story about feeling suddenly faint toward the end of one of her classes, and agreed to let Buffy stay where she was at until her mother checked her out.

Her comment about the hair coloring set off a whole new can of worms, one in which she was more prepared for than questions about the mysterious facility she ran away from.

"I kinda figured you dyed your hair, but I wasn't sure I was right," Xander commented, tilting his head so he could better examine the top of Buffy's head.

"Yep, you were. For once Xander you were right," Buffy just rolled her eyes along with Willow.

"Hey," Xander grinned; pleased his friend was joking back with him. At least, he was pretty sure she was joking back with him. Wasn't she?

"So, if you're hair isn't really blonde, which we've established, what color is it naturally?"

Willow's question gave Buffy pause, and Xander was miraculously silent as she contemplated the question.

"You know, Willow, it's been so long since I had it au natural that I don't know for certain. I'd been about nine or ten when I became a blond. But I'd been a dark brunette with some purple-reddish highlights. Think…Sarah Michelle Gellar in _Cruel Intentions_."

"Oh," the two best friends chorused.

"That was a good movie," Xander grinned.

"You just liked it because Sarah Michelle Gellar's character was a slut in revealing outfits and slightly porno," Willow wrinkled her nose at him. Giles' head snapped up and his eyes widened at the turn the conversation had suddenly taken and Buffy wanted to laugh but her headache kept her in check.

"I resemble that comment," Xander grumbled out over Giles' shocked babbling, smiling. "You liked it because Ryan Philippe showed his naked butt!"

"I did not!" Willow spluttered with righteous indignation, even as her face flushed a color similar to her hair. Buffy chuckled even as Giles looked about to faint and Jenny wanted to laugh.

"I didn't like it," she spoke up, halting the two's bickering.

"Huh?"

"His butt. Ryan Philippe's butt. It was kind of…bubbly," Buffy echoed Willow's previous gesture and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Bubbly? That was pure male perfection right in front of you! Bubbly!" Willow exclaimed, shaking her head.

"I have to agree with Buffy on this one," Ms. Calendar interjected, laughing outright at her boyfriend's open fish mouthed expression. "It was bubbly."

"Exactly. I like a guy with a butt, but that was too much," Buffy chuckled, and then winced.

Damn those last two vampires to the seventh level of Dante's Hell and back! They must have broken or at least bruised three or four ribs pretty good last night. The stupid seizures hadn't helped any.

"You know what? Buffy kinda looks like Sarah Michelle Geller. Don't you think?" Willow pointed out.

Buffy tried not to squirm as she was back under the microscope so to say, but thankfully, her mother charged into the room.

* * *

"Buffy, are you okay? The nurse called and said that you fell ill. I _knew_ something wasn't right this morning when you only had a couple slices of toast and milk."

Joyce Summers rushed over to her daughter, absently greeting the staff and the other two children, placing a hand on Buffy's forehead.

"Oh, baby, you're warm. Let's get you home and in bed, I'll make you some soup, and heat up some milk, and you can go to bed and get some sleep. You're so pale! Don't worry, I'll take care of you," Joyce soothed, stroking Buffy's face with the backs of her fingers in a light touch that all Mom's seemed to have mastered.

Buffy gave a sigh of relief at feeling her mother's cool hands stroke her face, unconsciously leaning into her touch. It would be so easy to just let go and purr her contentment. As it were, she just had to make do with a contented sigh and pout, giving her mom sad 'puppy dog' eyes.

Straightening up and squaring her shoulders, Joyce finally turned her attention to those surrounding her and her daughter, gave the children a grin, before addressing the adults.

"Mr. Giles, Ms. Calendar, thank you looking after her. Willow, Xander, thanks for being her for her."

Joyce was sincere in her thanks and it showed through despite her concern for Buffy's well being.

"It wasn't anything, really, Mrs. Summers. Buffy is very special and well liked around here. I hate that she's fallen so ill," Giles was able to reassure her with the truth.

Joyce smiled at him, pleased her daughter had made such apparent social headway at school, and turned back to her daughter completely missing the look Jenny sent her way. While Joyce's back was turned Jenny subtlety inched closer to Giles and wasn't happy at the way the other woman had thanked _her_ boyfriend. Her eyes had lingered _way_ too long on Rupert for Jenny's well being.

Willow, Xander, and Buffy had caught it, and swapped amused smirks, even as Giles was as oblivious as ever to the rising estrogen and protective level of his girlfriend.

"C'mon, Elizabeth Anne Summers, we're going home," Joyce ordered and Buffy had to resist the urge to snap salute and crisply reply, 'Yes ma'am!'

"Bye, guys," Buffy waved and then she and her mother were out the door.

* * *

The cemetery was dark and misty and noisy. Well, noisy as in the trees swayed in the breeze, the branches and twigs creaking, leaves rattling on the ground with each gust, the sound the wind made as it flowed between the headstones and pillars of the mausoleums.

Giles jumped once again as a set of leaves rattled on the ground as they were blown away by a particularly strong burst of wind. The night was cool and the Watcher shivered as he burrowed further into his overcoat, teeth chattering softly.

Why was he out at the Hellmouth's most active cemetery at such an ungodly time of night? Right, he was doing this for Buffy. Buffy, his strong Slayer, whom had never failed to patrol even if he had to twist her arm to do it, though he suspected she didn't really mind as much as she griped about it.

The Watcher was armed with all sorts of armaments packed in an unzipped canvas bag that were meant to fight the various forces of darkness, everything from common stakes to a broadsword, a hand axe, bottles of holy water, garlic bulbs, holy wafers, a crossbow and bolts, to crosses made out of wood, silver, and one painted onto a very bright mega watt flashlight.

He was ready. Vampires and evildoers beware. Rupert Giles, Watcher to the Slayer Buffy, was on patrol…he was rough, tough, and…

"Giles?"

"Ahh!"

Giles whirled around, crossbow brandished, cross bearing flashlight pointed toward the intruder who held his hands up both to placate and to protect him.

"It's okay. It's me!"

"Angel? Is that you?"

Though still frightened, the Watcher peered through his spectacles at the vampire who still covered himself.

"Yes. Could you turn that off or point it some other way?"

"What? Oh! The flashlight! Of course, how silly me of me. Didn't think it worked but I guess I was proved wrong wasn't I?" Giles mused as he pointed the light away from the cowering vampire.

The tall souled out vampire lowered his arms cautiously once the danger was diverted, slowly relaxing his arms down to his side, warily looking at the device in the Watcher's hand.

"Fancy meeting you here tonight," Giles began when it seemed the vampire was going to do no more than glare at his flashlight.

Those eyes flicked up toward the Watcher and again Giles felt the cold and his fright. Even though he had his soul back after being cursed by Gypsies over ninety years ago, Giles could never forget as the others seemed to that this vampire was at one time Angelus, the vampire with the face of an angel, the scourge of Europe, who terrorized, raped, pillaged, and frightened most of the Old World for centuries. It was Giles' belief that, if he hadn't been cursed, that Angelus would have become just as fearsome and powerful as his grandsire, The Master.

"I was here hoping to talk to Buffy."

"Of course," the Watcher agreed, still feeling the effect those eyes had upon him.

His name at one point had been Liam, and he had been a simple aristocrat in 1770's Ireland, where he was typical of a young man of that day and age looking for something better than what his small little world was offering. Seduced by the golden beauty and whispered promise of adventure and faraway lands, Liam had given up his mortal living, and was turned by the beautiful, vain, and deadly Darla.

Angelus had been a terrible master, and took to his new evil personality with a passion and a gusto almost unmatched by any in history or ever more. He loved to torment and torture people, the innocents especially, as anything that reminded him of humanity was pursued and vanquished with zeal. Only one had truly come close to matching his cruelty, William the Bloody, Angelus' own grand-childe sired by his mad Seer childe Drusilla.

Drusilla was as mad as Angelus and could match him for schemes, but she lacked the sane drive to motivate herself. Her childe William, who chose the moniker Spike after brutally murdering a man by driving a railroad spike through his skull, had observed and learned from Angelus and set out to perform a similar humanity exorcism on himself and his life. Some would say he was a pale imitation, no pun intended, but in truth Spike was just as deadly or perhaps even more so than Angelus.

"Where is Buffy? She's usually here by now, already having patrolled the other cemeteries," the dark haired vamp went on.

That was a new bit of information. She was quick to patrol was she? Unimportant for the moment, as it seemed Angel was waiting for a reply.

"Uh, yes, actually. I'm on patrol for her tonight, she's not feeling well." _That's an understatement, Giles._

The vampire stared at him, his high forehead wrinkled as he thought and frowned, thick hair spiked in its usual disarray.

"That's not like her," he spoke almost as if to himself. Those brown orbs flicked upwards again to capture Giles' gaze and he couldn't look away despite himself.

"Slayer healing should have made her immune to things like this."

"Actually, that's not entirely accurate. A Slayer's healing ability aids in rapid wound and bone damage makes them harder to kill, increases speed, stamina, and skill, but it does not in any way make them completely immune to disease. Just…more difficult to catch."

"I see."

The men fell silent for one of those awkward, male pauses where neither man knew how to continue or inquire about the other.

"So what does she have? I mean we're talking cold, flu, allergies…"

"Seizures."

"Seizures?" Angel's dark russet colored eyes darkened to almost black in his concern.

"Yes, Grand mal seizures to be more precise. It seems that Buffy has had them before as a child growing up, although sporadically, and all but almost ceased to exist once she was Chosen. However, they do seem to have returned within the last twenty-four hours with a vengeance. Her mother came and took her out of school hours earlier than she could have stayed, and made her rest. She should be at home asleep."

"I'll take over the patrol for tonight. You seem a little…cold, Giles."

"You would? Why would you do that? I assure it isn't necessary, and I told Buffy that I…"

Angel cut him off with a wave of his hand and a shrug of his large, broad shoulders that were covered with his usual trench coat, blazer, and t-shirt combination. Giles noted that he hadn't worn a leather jacket since giving Buffy his own, the same leather jacket she often wore during patrol or training session, he thought irritably.

"Don't worry. I've patrolled often enough with Buffy I know the routine. Besides, it's so cold out I don't think much of anything, if anything, will be out tonight, and we can't have both the Slayer _and_ her Watcher out of commission now can we?"

Giles couldn't argue with this logic even had he wanted to. He knew he shouldn't disappoint Buffy, but he also knew that she wouldn't want him to patrol if it meant that he would get sick. Reluctantly, he found himself agreeing.

"I have everything under control," was the vampire's parting words of assurance. Despite himself, Giles found he desperately wanted to believe that, even as he made his chilled way to his car.

* * *

_A/n: So…what do you think? Jareth says review and he'll consider releasing the next chapter! You don't want to irritate a wingless dragon, do you?_


	9. Chapter 9

**Slayers, Vampires, and Genetically Engineered _Oh My!_**

* * *

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns Buffy and all characters pertaining and created therein; Cameron, Eglee, and the Fox guys Dark Angel and all characters and associations.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

* * *

_Previously:_

_Giles calls Joyce to take Buffy home because of her seizures. He promise that he'll patrol for Buffy that night, and in one of the cemeteries, meets up with Angel, who insists on patrolling in his stead._

* * *

Angel made short work of patrolling. Like he'd told Giles before, it was too cold out for much supernatural activity, and the few fledglings he'd found he'd quickly dispatched and turned them to dust. He did a run down of the other cemeteries and the one he'd found Giles in one more time, just to be sure, and then he headed down the familiar street of Revello Drive, pausing to stand and stare at number 1630.

It was late at night, extremely late, but that and the cold didn't affect him at all. His gaze landed on her window, and he ached with all that was within him to storm her bedroom and carry her off where he could protect and take care of her until she was better and beyond. Mentally, he knew that she wouldn't take that very well, being very fond of her independence and taking great pride in being able to fend for her.

He noticed that all the lights were off except for a soft glow of what had to be a nightlight in her bedroom. Well, she was sick, and while not up to speed on all the new technological marvels and diseases, he knew enough to know that a grand mal seizure was bad indeed even if Giles hadn't told him that. He knew how weak that made people, he'd seen it happen, and taken advantage of a weak prey back in the day when he had been Angelus.

Not able to help himself but inexplicably drawn to be near her, even if only seeing her from the outside, he had to get closer. It was no problem for the vampire to scale the side of the building, climb the roof, and pause outside her window that was open just a little bit.

Her scent crept out of the window and hit him full blast, and out of reflex, he breathed it in, relishing that piquant scent that was so uniquely her. Never in his years of undead living and traveling had he scented someone so…different. As a vampire, Angel had a keen sense of smell, being able to scent blood from miles away. But he had a sense of smell even keener than other vampires, and he'd used and been used by Darla and the Master to track prey and enemies with this special sense. And that sense told him that Buffy was not human, at least not in the conventional sense.

She was a blend of scents, the tang of female, the light zing of her cherry lip balm, the sharp harsh scent and power of the Slayer, the subtle hint of the vanilla shampoo and body wash she'd taken to wearing…but underneath all that was something unusual. Her natural scent was heavily feline at first sniff, almost overpowering the other scents buried under all the shampoo and other artificial cosmetics. Something aquatic, shark perhaps, and something vaguely avian blended with the feline and human aspects to form a cornucopia of flavors that was distinctively Buffy.

"Are you going to just sit there or are you coming in?"

It wasn't the fact that she spoke which surprised him, as it was the quality of her voice. He'd never heard his Buffy speak in such a…fragile tone of voice. She sounded horrible, as if she were not really feeling good, or recovering from a potentially life-threatening bout of seizures.

Without a word or another moment's hesitation he lifted the window far enough for him to slip through, stepping carefully inside and coming to stand by the foot of the bed closest to the window. Now that he was here, he was uncertain, why he hadn't a clue.

Maybe it was the fact that laying there in the pale moonlight she looked ghostlike, ethereal. Her normally healthy pink color was now vampirish pale, and there were circles under her eyes that had nothing to do with the shadows cast about her room. She seemed so much smaller, the usual commanding aura about her that made one disregard her vertically challenged stature was diminished, and the Slayer resembled more a China doll needing protection than a kick ass Slayer who could stake him and send him to the afterlife in less than five seconds had she wished.

"Okay, out with it. Tell me how horrible and fragile and delicate I look so we can get this over with," Buffy rolled her eyes, and Angel found himself grinning in relief. Buffy was still in there, attitude and all, sickness be damned.

"You could never be horrible looking," he reassured her, telling the truth, feeling his undead heart clench with his passion for her.

Her snort of disbelief was typical Buffy and with a more relaxed stance he crept forward so he could sit at the side of her bed. He reached out and tentatively took hold of her exposed hand, smiling slightly as her fingers curled and tightened about his own. Her hand was so little, almost swallowed whole by his, and his other hand traced random designs on the back of hers. She gave a soft sigh of satisfaction and snuggled back against her pillows, content and feeling better now that Angel was here with her.

"And as for fragile…I don't think anyone would ever make that assumption. Delicate on the other hand," he teased, pleased to see that spark of fire wasn't gone or dulled from her eyes due to his teasing, something he found himself doing more often since he'd initiated contact with her.

"Is not something anyone would ascribe to me within the first five seconds of meeting me," Buffy finished for him, smiling gently as Angel's mere presence soothed her.

It was strange, just being around him mellowed her out, made her think clearer, eased her mind despite his being a vampire and she the Slayer, mortal enemies who found themselves in love…or at least the very serious beginnings. She hadn't felt this safe or loved and protected since she was separated from her family.

"Oh, I don't know about that. You remind me of the chain mail the knights used to wear."

At her incredulous look Angel continued grinning.

"Each link was so thin and delicate, only a master smith could work it properly. But when meshed together, each delicate link supported the others, and nothing could pierce through because it was strong and unbreakable."

"So, I'm what…your little chain mail chickie?"

Angel shook his head at Buffy's lame attempt at humor, not resisting when Buffy brought their linked hands toward her, brushing his knuckles with a soft kiss. She sighed again; wincing as she shifted to relieve the pressure on her bruised and abused ribs. Angel frowned, and gently released her hand, pulling the duvet back. A look at Buffy for permission, and then he slowly raised the material of her shirt to the side, pulling it up and laying bare the taut expanse of her stomach and giving him a view of her ribs.

They were dark colored and swollen, a testament of the tremendous tremors of her seizing and the busy night of slayage previously. Angel growled, his fingers lightly stroking and probing the bruises, not so oblivious to the way her skin trembled underneath his touch.

"Are these related to your seizures?" he asked, eyes on the smooth skin beneath his fingertips.

She was so soft, yet so firm, and tanned a beautiful golden tint by the light of a sun he could never again enjoy. He was fascinated, could almost feel the sun's heat radiating off her body, at least that was what he imagined.

"Partly," Buffy managed, her voice slightly shaky, not at all able to mask her reaction to having Angel touch her.

"Only partly?" Angel raised his eyes to meet hers, and she almost stopped breathing.

"The other part was the fifteen vamps I took out the other night," she shrugged, trying to be nonchalant.

She knew she probably wasn't succeeding, but her eyes were riveted upon Angel's, her body turning into his, leaning into his touch.

"Fifteen? You were a busy Slayer last night."

Her head tilted, as she seemed to creep closer he was closer than she'd thought, or perhaps she wasn't the only one moving.

"Yeah. You know me, busy little bee, that's me."

She raised her head toward his, one hand reaching up to rest upon the hand still on her skin, heart pounding just that much faster.

Angel's head seemed to lower and they were so close they were breathing each other in. This was what she wanted, what she was craving, and what seemed right. Just as she was closing her eyes and about to give in, she jerked away, eyes wide and already pointed toward the door she knew Joyce Summers was about to walk through.

"Mom!" she hissed, and Angel had only seconds to disappear before Buffy's door opened.

* * *

"Buffy, I thought you were asleep! I came to check on you. How are you sweetie?" she said it with such love and caring that Buffy caved in.

As always, Buffy felt the warmth of caring and gratitude for this woman who had opened her heart and home to a stray runaway so long ago, even after a nasty divorce. Not many divorced adults, whether male or female, would willing take on a child that wasn't of their own body, but Joyce Summers was one such adult. She gave the woman she'd come to consider her mother a wobbly smile, even as her heart raced thinking of Angel under the bed.

"I was having some trouble sleeping," she admitted, which was the truth.

Before Angel had come in she had just awoken from an awful nightmare where she was back at Manticore, and her friends and mother and Angel and Giles had turned their backs on her when they realized she was an X5, and she had come to consciousness crying softly.

"No wonder, what with that window open. Honestly, I don't see how you could with all that cold air blowing in. You want to catch a cold in addition to these seizures of yours?"

Joyce busied herself with the window, not noticing the male leg that pulled itself further under the bed, the dust ruffle swaying slightly with it's passing.

She came in and sat in the same spot Angel had, reaching over in a similar fashion to expose the same swath of skin Angel had touched. She blanched at the sight but recovered admirably, and if her voice when she next spoke was quivery, who could blame her?

"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry."

"What for? Is it your problem I'm fu-uh, messed up and have these seizures? Not _your_ fault."

And if I find the jerk scientist who slacked off and wasn't paying attention when they pieced me and mine together he's going to wish he were facing an entire army of Congara demons, with only one knife.

"No, but I just wish I knew more of your family history so I can know what else to expect from you."

Joyce missed the expression on her face, but Angel could pick up on the change in her heart and breathing rhythm, as well as the change in her scent. He bit back another growl.

"My family couldn't help you even if they were here," Buffy said quietly, but Joyce didn't catch it.

"Can you tell me more of your family before Hank and I had met you, adopted you? How come you were in San Francisco and on the street at such a young age? And why you wanted us to choose a name for you instead of using your God-given name, which you never told me or Hank."

Buffy shifted uncomfortably even as Joyce gave her the 'Mom' look, finally giving in with a sigh, debating how much she should tell her.

"We weren't related by blood…but we were family to each other, no matter what anyone else said or told us to believe. We looked after each other, y'know?" she smiled as Joyce did the same, holding on to her daughter's hand.

"The place we grew up in…was like an orphanage. We never knew our birth parents, but we were special, that's what they told us."

Well, that's mostly true. Mostly.

"Some of use had the seizures, some more than the others. Some of us died," Buffy's voice caught, images of beloved shaved children flashing through her mind, tears gathered in her eyes.

Joyce made sympathetic noises, and reached over to embrace her little girl, staying silent to encourage her to continue, somehow knowing silence was what Buffy needed.

"Our _home_," Buffy spat the word out in a bitter venom, "was rough. They did things to us…abused their position of authority. They said they'd help us, those with the seizures, but…they didn't, not really. One of my 'brothers' had a seizure, a grand mal, right before breakfast one day…they took him away. My sisters couldn't sleep that night so she wandered around even though it was past li- uh; bedtime, and she came to a part of the orphanage she'd never been before. She snuck in and there was a door that was partially open, light coming through. Cat and curiosity and all, she went to investigate."

Buffy paused, her breath hitching and eyes glazing over, unfocused, staring past her mother's shoulder.

"She saw him. Saw our brother. He was laid out on a cold, metal table and there were doctors and nurses and people all round him. She thought they were helping them…until she saw them cut him open. They were doing an autopsy."

Joyce couldn't help the gasp that escaped her, even as she hugged Buffy close, alarmed at the stiff way her daughter held herself and didn't pay attention. Down below, Angel could sense Buffy's riotous emotions and wished her were in Joyce's position, or at least able to see her face. He could tell she was hurting, hurting over something years old, but hurting nonetheless, and still hurting.

"That wouldn't have been so bad…except that he woke up in the middle of it."

"Oh, my God," Joyce breathed, hurting at this painful memory, but also hurting for this 'sister' of her daughter's who had to see that.

"He woke up screaming, he had slipped into a coma because of his seizure, but they thought he was dead. They'd cut into his chest, there was so much blood, and she could see his insides. Then he stopped. The, the _director_ of the facility had snapped his neck."

"What?"

"Oh, he'd used to be Special Forces before he'd taken the position, but it was awful. My sister came rushing back to our bar-bedroom and told all our brothers and sisters. We decided that night we weren't going to take it any longer. His name was Jack," and Buffy started to cry, leaning into her mother, letting loose six years worth of hidden pain.

"Shh…it's okay baby. You're not there anymore, they're not going to get you."

Buffy went rigid, back stiffening and she took in a shaky breath, trying to calm herself.

"My sister, Maxie, the one who saw Jack die…she had the shakes too. We were so close, Maxie and I. We'd stay up late all the time, talking, laughing, and swapping stories or gossip or opinions back and forth. We always had trouble sleeping, but we were almost like twins. Both of us with dark hair and dark eyes…Max was a cutie though. She had these big ole brown eyes and this caramel skin and this full, pouting mouth that'll cause trouble for lots of boys," Buffy smiled, face relaxing and going into a look so tender, Joyce was amazed.

Until that moment, she hadn't realized that her daughter wore a mask. But sitting here, holding her close, as she spoke of a sister who wasn't even blood…she found that she didn't know her daughter as well as she thought she had.

"So about a month later, Max got the shakes really bad. They came to take her away, like they did to Jack and all the others before him. We couldn't let that happen. So we escaped."

Sounded simple, right? That was an understatement.

* * *

_The snow crunched underfoot, sending tendrils of cold shooting up her leg, but she ignored it. She had tried to get to Jace to come, but Jace had just frozen, staying put and refusing to come. She was a good soldier she had insisted. Jondy, who would later be known as Buffy Summers, figured her sister's reversion to soldier mode was due more to the shock of seeing Eva gunned down than any adherence or loyalty to Manticore. As much as she wanted to cart her sister off, she couldn't dally anymore…besides Maxie needed her more, and she wouldn't force Jace into a decision that might earn her enmity._

_She swung around, zig-zagging to throw off the slathering hounds, whose baying she imagined to be the belling of Gabriel's Ratchets, the Hellhounds, Hounds of the Great Hunt. When she was satisfied with the false trail she darted through familiar woods to the clearing Zack had predetermined as Nav Alpha._

_She was the last one to arrive. The heads of her siblings popped up like macabre daisies dressed in pathetically flimsy gowns in the grim hours of the darkest part of night. It would have been funny had the situation not been so serious._

_She gave a 'no-go' in response to Zack's questioning about where Jace was. Lips thin in a tightened line, he dismissed her to take her spot by Max. A quick glance assured her that her sister was better, her shaking not as bad. Of course, she could also be cold, as she shivered herself._

_She snapped alert as Zack started giving orders and breaking them up into pairs…wait a moment. They were splitting up? While tactically sound, what if they got into trouble, and needed one of the Unit? There was a greater safety in numbers that outweighed the risk of exposure._

_As Zack sent Brin and Vada away, she found herself frowning. Zack wasn't giving them any secondary rendezvous coordinates. Did he just expect them to split up and never see anyone else again? That kind of cell movement wasn't very sound in the long run._

_It was when Ben started to put up a fuss and Max shifted anxiously that she came left her musings, to see a scowling Zack gesture imperiously to Ben and Seth to leave. She knew that Ben wanted to be with Maxie now – he was about the only other person than she that Max would feel the most comfortable and safe with._

_If she were honest with herself, she had to admit; taking care of Max seemed the only thing that kept him sane now. It probably would be better for Ben himself, to have someone like Max to take care of so soon after his bout with Psy-Ops. She couldn't believe Zack was splitting the two up. As close as she and Max were, she couldn't help feel that Ben needed Maxie more._

_Seth finally intervened, her third in command, now upgraded to second with Eva's painful death by Lydecker's hand, placing a gentle but firm hand on Ben's shoulder and jerking his head toward the woods. With a last, apologetic look to Max, and a glare for Biggest Brother Zack, the two male X5's were gone._

_It was just her, Max, and Zack left in the clearing, and they could hear the sound of the guards and dogs closing in, the whine of snowmobiles revving up, shouts going back and forth, and the distant whump, whump of helicopter blades warming up. Weren't they going to be surprised at the little parting gift the littlest 'Monster' left them?_

_Zack gave the order for her and Max to go, but Max didn't want to leave Zack. Not an unusual response. Max out of them all craved, no, needed the structure of the Unit, and hated leaving any behind. That was her one weakness and Zack shook his head adamantly and stabbed his fingers in an insistent signal to 'go'._

_Grabbing Max's arm, she gripped her sister and headed for freedom. They knew where the fence was; they had just never thought to jump over it before. She knew that they had to make it over the fence, or they wouldn't be going anywhere but Psy-Ops for a really long time._

_Reaching the perimeter, ignoring the probing, searching spotlights and pops of sporadic gunfire, Jondy urged Max on ahead, leaping easily onto the chain link fence and pausing in her mad scurrying to help and make sure Max made it to the top. Her back and neck prickled with the sensation of being watched, and she could almost sense the malevolence and malicious intent, suddenly knowing with gut wrenching certainty she was being hunted to kill._

_That feeling was abruptly diminished, and as she landed on the other side of the fence, a quick glance backward revealed Zack tacking on several TAC officers, knowing that her brother had sacrificed his freedom to ensure hers and Maxie's._

Blue Lady, be with you, brother, _she thought even as she prodded a reluctant Max onward. She followed her instinct and took off, Max behind her, and didn't pay attention to the ice beneath her. Unfortunately, two X5's, even if they were children and not very big, was too much and with a sickening sound eerily similar to bone snapping Max was just all of a sudden below ice_.

_'Max!' she couldn't stop the cry from tearing out of her throat._

No, not Max!

_Jondy slid along the ice, freezing as she caught sight of her sister under the ice. A flurry of rushed signals and she reluctantly followed her sister's command to go on. She could hear the vehicles and the dogs and the guards…and some instinct told her that the Colonel was on his way._

_With one last agonizing, regretful look Jondy left her sister. But she didn't intend to stray very far. She had faith Max would make it; she just had to make sure that she was safe. There was a huge conifer tree, bristling with boughs heavy laden with snow, about an eighth of a mile away, it's aroma pungent and would do to mask her scent and distort her body temperature._

_It was nerve wracking to have to wait, even if she had been trained to do so. Worry for Max, for her other siblings, for her own self getting captured, kept her strung up. It was especially bad when Lydecker and some of his men parked right where Max was hidden under the ice. Knowing it would be suicide to take on all the men, but nonetheless prepared to do so if they discovered Max, Jondy waited while slowing down her heartbeat and breathing._

_They finally left after what seemed like an eternity to the awaiting X5, but even then she did not move. A gasping figure spluttering and shivering with cold and seizure after effects came up out of the water, and Jondy winced at seeing her sister like this. The pathetic hospital gowns they wore did not offer any protection, especially now that she was wet and cold._

_Jondy was on her way to slipping out of the tree when she caught the unmistakable sound of the TAC officers. Her teeth bared in a grimacing snarl as she realized they had sighted Maxie, who was already on her way to freedom but slightly hampered by her recent experiences enough that the two men were able to track her._

Not my Maxie tonight, _Jondy hissed in her mind._

_Stealthily following the men following her sister, she slipped in the trees and shadows like a shadow herself, a creature of the night and born for war. Right now, she declared war on two TAC officers daring to attempt to capture her sister. She'd show them why she'd earned the nickname 'Monster'.

* * *

_

"I'm so sorry, baby," Joyce murmured again, her hands making soothing motions on her back even as she clutched her closer.

"It's okay, Mom. It was a long time ago. Besides, I eventually found my way to San Francisco where I met you and Dad."

"I don't think that living and working in a bar was the correct place for a young child," Joyce stated with disapproval in her voice. Buffy grinned in the darkness, seizing the opportunity to tease her mother.

"Now why would you think that? At least it was the bar and not the strip club my foster mother worked."

"And for that reason is why we rescued you from that horrible situation. It was bad enough she worked as a bartender and brought you along, and bringing a little girl to a strip club…" Joyce shook her head.

"It was educational," Buffy deadpanned and Joyce laughed.

"I'll bet. That is one area I encourage you to fail to remember."

The two Summers women were grinning at each other and Buffy suddenly yawned, tired. The excitement of the last twenty-four hours was enough to exhaust even her X5 and Slayer endurance, and she didn't resist Joyce's urgings to lie back down.

"Goodnight, Buffy. Pleasant dreams."

"Night, Mom."

Buffy layback, listening, making sure her mother really was going to bed and not going to come back in. Her eyes felt heavy, but there was something more important.

"Angel?" she whispered, and just like it was a summons, he was there.

"You should get some sleep," he spoke, after several moments worth of gazing at her.

"Please, stay," she asked softly, not quite begging just yet. She could see he was teetering, and she reached for the closest hand.

"Please," she added, and he gave in. She lifted the covers on her bed and scooted gingerly to one side, giving him room to slide in. She heaved a contented sigh as his arms went about her and she snuggled into him, his chest against her back.

"Thank you," she whispered, reassured by his cool presence at her back that countered her own natural high body temperature.

"You're welcome," he answered back, just as softly.

She knew it was probably tempting him to have her neck so close and bared to him, but he was remarkably controlled, though she could feel the tension in his arms as he held her, smell his lust and desire that was only partially for her physically, and the other part for the blood pumping through her body. It was an unfair test, for sure, but it also proved how much she trusted him, and for that, she would bare all of herself if need be.

She was almost asleep when he asked, "You're not completely human, are you?"

* * *

_A/n: Hehe! Thought we were going to be nice just cause we posted the second chapter eh?_

_Jareth: Well, nana nana nuah! I don't even know if that's how you spell that, but Jareth gives you the raspberry! **:P** _

_Me: Jareth! Please ignore him; he's had a nap. Please review!_


	10. Chapter 10

Slayers, Vampires, and Genetically Engineered Oh My!

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns Buffy and all characters pertaining and created therein; Cameron, Eglee, and the Fox guys Dark Angel and all characters and associations.

Chapter 10

* * *

_Previously:_

_She was almost asleep when he asked, "You're not completely human, are you?"

* * *

_

Angel could feel the tension spring up in Buffy as she suddenly stiffened in his arms, and a heartbeat later, she spoke as she turned around in his arms.

"No," she admitted, searching his eyes for something. He sighed and tightened his grip slightly, one hand starting lazy circles gently on her side.

"I thought so."

"I figured you would have known," she spoke again, softly. "Vampire senses are keen, and it's been rumored in the Watchers Diaries that you have the keenest nose of any vampire. I guessed that you had to have been aware, at least a little bit, with as close as we are."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked, his turn to search her eyes, careful to keep his expression neutral.

Buffy ignored the mask and plunged onward.

"The same reason you didn't want to tell me you was a vampire. I was afraid."

"I wasn't afraid," he insisted, frowning slightly. "I was just cautious, and I didn't want to frighten you off or increase the possibility of being staked. I like you."

"Sure, that too," Buffy rolled her eyes, laying her arm on top of his, fingers making random patterns.

"So you knew I was a vampire even before I told you," he said slowly, trying to get things clear.

"Yes. I smelled you," she nodded, smiling. "Besides, I couldn't hear your pulse or heart beat, or blood flowing in your body, large indicators you weren't exactly your average Ordinary human. Then there was the smell."

"Smell?" Angel cocked his head, intrigued despite himself.

"Yeah. I call it the Vampire Smell – not quite human, slightly sulfuric, and cold, almost like a reptile. I don't know, it's hard to describe, but most vampires have that unique scent. A signature scent if you will. Just as werewolves and other preternatural creepy crawlies do."

"And you could smell that?"

"Yeah. I also figured you'd tell me when you were ready, and you did. Not human myself, see?" She sighed, turning her head away. "I'm not even real."

"What do you mean? You look, feel, and smell real enough to me."

Her second sigh told him she hadn't meant for him to hear that last part. She was silent another moment before trying to explain herself once more.

"What I mean is, I'm not supposed to be possible. I'm the product of five thousand years worth of selective breeding, and the last hundred years worth of scientific breakthrough procedure, and at least fifty years of scientific and government experimentation on splicing animal D.N.A. with human to create the perfect supersoldier. Me."

"A supersoldier," Angel repeated slowly.

"Yeah, little ole me, Uncle Sam's worst and best kept secret of a sorts. Created using the best human and animal stock around, they bred, designed, and trained me and others just like me to become the perfect biological weapon, each a weapon in our own right. We are genetically, physically, and mentally greater but at the same time lesser than our human creators and handlers. We were, are, just a tool, a means to an end." Buffy shrugged.

"And the story you told your mother, Joyce. That was true wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Replace orphanage with ultra secret government black ops facility and child soldiers for 'special' kids and you have my unit and I. As well as others like us who didn't have a chance or the inclination to escape."

Thoughts of Jace flashed through her mind and Buffy could only hope that her sister was content, if not happy, with the decisions she had made.

"So…you knew I wasn't human," Buffy went on, and it was Angel's turn to nod.

"Yes. I could smell you," his lips twitched at his intentional use of her explanation.

"I've fought and killed and known several Slayers in my time…and I have to say, while I could smell the Slayer power in you, you also smelled…"

"Good?" Buffy supplied hopefully, this time eliciting a more real smile out of him.

"Feline."

Buffy arched an eyebrow at that, a slightly bemused expression on her face, outmatched by her curiosity.

"You could break down the individual components of my D.N.A.?" she asked.

That was just an exceptional concept.

"I smelled feline, something aquatic like a shark or something, and something avian, in addition to your human scents," Angel explained. "Those were the main traces I could detect. There were others, but I can't exactly pinpoint them."

"No, that's all right. You were right about the feline…and the shark. The avian is surprising, though I would guess that it would have to be something carnivorous, as the majority of the animals spliced into us were predators. Or at least pretty dang good defensively."

The pair was silent, laden down with their heavy thoughts, touching and stroking each other almost chastely. Angel was the first to break the stillness; risking the chance he'd wake Buffy up, her head nodding sleepily.

"If you knew what I was…why did you scream when I revealed myself?"

He tried to sound indifferent. He tried to make it out as casual and unimportant as he could. But from the weight of her gaze and the deepening of her breathing, he knew she knew it was important to him what she answered.

"In my defense, I was kinda in the kissy moment, and then to suddenly be confronted with your game face at that particular moment when I wasn't paying attention…"

Buffy stopped, looked down, found herself looking at Angel's chest and averted her head to the side, hair covering her face from his view.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I neglected the very first piece of training ever drilled into my thick head: never let your emotions cloud your judgment or hinder your senses for pertinent information. The area and scene may not be what it appears and you could make rash and deadly decisions based on faulty assumptions. I can't believe I was so stupid!"

"Hey, it's okay," Angel's hand left her side to cup her face.

"I hurt you. I should have realized in the kitchen that you hadn't attacked my mother, that it was Darla, but I was so confused, and hurt."

Buffy's eyes turned to meet his and something in his undead body clenched at the heartbroken look in her eyes.

"I promised myself, years ago after the escape, that if I ever fell in love I'd do everything not to hurt him. I failed…and I almost killed you because I'd let myself ignore important information. And these damned seizures are making me so freaking emotional and I hate being so weak and now I'm going to cry again," she wept softly into his chest, ignoring for the moment his chuckles as she ended her rant.

Angel was amazed, if he hadn't been feeling her tears on his chest and seen her shoulders shake with her sobs; he couldn't have told that she was actively crying she made no sound.

"I'm done now," she sniffled after a few minutes.

Angel wondered if she meant the crying or the ranting. He decided it was the better part of valor and a good survival technique not comment. Instead,

"So you weren't paying attention to the scents, just reacting."

"Yeah, you were kinda all I was thinking about. At the time. You do seem to have that affect on me," she blushed. "I was so focused on you and how stupid I was for freaking out and sending you away and how irritated I was, that I let Darla manipulate me into going after you."

"She has-had- a habit of doing that to people, not just you," Angel assured her, looking away in pain.

Buffy softened and her heart melted at the pain in his face. Mentally, she knew that Darla had been Angel's sire, and that the pair had been lovers for more centuries than she'd had birthdays, wreaking havoc all over Europe. She knew he had to have loved her somewhat for as long as he'd stayed with her in his unlife.

She reached a hand up and curved it around his neck, forcing his head down so she could touch her forehead to his. Just being a comfort.

"What about the crossbow?"

"What?"

The abrupt topic change caught her off-guard, and she released his neck, pulling her head back and to the side to get a better look at him. Angel chuckled at her startled look.

"The crossbow," he prompted with a hint of his old smile, eyes dancing with mischief. "I thought Slayers, and soldiers, didn't miss."

"Well, I didn't want to hurt you, kill you, not really. I actually wanted to try and talk about it, but also be prepared in case I truly had to do it. You kinda pissed me off, taunting me, poking fun at me. I fired in warning, but you were also faster than I'd thought, really fast."

"Your version of talking things out includes hunting and assaulting me with a crossbow?"

"What can I say? We transgenics are violent creatures in nearly all aspects of society and social interaction. Our version of 'play' isn't great for all until the blood's flowing, ribs cracked, and the bodies are bruised."

"So, Buffy isn't your name…your real name."

She was silent again, swiping at her nose while she gave a sniffle, and finally shook her head no.

"No…we never had names, just designations, a series of numbers. But my family, my unit, decided one night we'd name each other. I don't think we'd been the only unit to do so, but they never let on to us or anyone else. My designation's X5-332340090210, or simply X5-210. I have the barcode to prove it, though it's covered up for the time being. My, my _real_ name, the one my unit gave me is…Jondy."

The name rolled off her tongue like an old friend, and pausing, Buffy was surprised to find out the name still fit, even after nearly seven years of being Elizabeth 'Buffy' Anne Summers. As a matter of fact, it sounded _right_, coming from her lips. She smiled, which Angel noted, and nodded decisively.

"My name is Jondy," she repeated, pleased at the sound.

It was her name, something uniquely her own, given with love after the utmost contemplation on what would suit her by the only creatures who had cared about her back then. That made it special, and that no one, not even Manticore though they tried so very hard, could take that away from her.

"Jondy," Angel repeated, trying it out, and even if he had hated it he couldn't deny as Buffy's eyes lit up at hearing her true name flow from her beloved's lips.

"Jondy," she echoed, gazing up at him with a soft smile.

"Jondy and Buffy. Buffy and Jondy. They both suit you, kind of."

"Right," Buffy rolled her eyes, giggling. "Hank, my adoptive father, didn't like having to say Elizabeth Anne, and he didn't want an Eliza, or Liz, or Beth, or Betty, so he somehow came up with Buffy. I don't know how, but then again, I wasn't going to complain. My own name is Jondy, I have a sister named Max, and another named Tinga and Jace and Syl. Krit, Zane, Ash, Ferro, and Cypress are some of my brothers. Who was I to complain about names?"

"Who do you think of yourself as? Jondy or Buffy?"

"You know what…I never really thought about it. I guess I'll always consider myself Jondy, though in intense situations or periods of self-loathing I'll call myself 'soldier' or 210. I don't think it's the name that defines the person, but the person who defines the name. I'm still the same person whether I'm Buffy, Jondy, or X5-210. But Buffy's been me for the last six and half years. Besides…"

Buffy yawned again even as she snuggled deeper against Angel and her pillows, her voice tapering off.

"As long as it was different enough from my real name, the safer I'd be from Manticore."

"Manticore?" Angel cocked his head at her slip. "What does a mythical creature have to do with anything?"

"Everything and nothing…tell you later."

With a weary sigh, the Slayer was gone, oblivious to the rest of the world as her body shut down to heal for some much needed healing.

"Good night…Jondy."

* * *

_**A/n: Okay, so I don't really like this chapter.**_

_**Jareth: Hey!**_

**_Me: Don't blame me, this was _your_ idea. Kind of a lame finish to the other two._**

_**Jareth: But it had to be done!**_

_**Me: I know, I know! I'm just not happy with the way it…fizzled at the end. **_

_**Jareth: (huffing) Well, it was a filler chapter, a bridging chapter. Don't be mad at me because you hate writing transitional chapters! That's why you haven't continued on with your other Dark Angel story.**_

_**-Me twaps Jareth- That's private information! Please read and review!**_


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